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February 10, 2006

Grammy Fug Carpet: Danni Ray

You're at the Grammy Awards, honey, not the gynecologist. Put your peaches back in the can, stand up straight, and stop visually begging people to use their trophies as a speculum.

Posted by Heather at 02:18 PM in Grammys | Permalink

February 09, 2006

Grammy Fug Press Room: Keith Urban

INT. NICOLE KIDMAN'S HOUSE. DAY

KEITH: Nicole, what do you think about this outfit I picked out for the Grammys?

NICOLE:  You look brilliant, Keith! Simply brilliant! What shirt are you planning on wearing? Something from Thomas Pink? Ooh! You can wear those vintage Cartier cufflinks I got you! I'm so excited for you! I hope you win tonight! Winning is so divine!

KEITH: A shirt?

NICOLE: [puzzled look] Um...yes?

KEITH: I don't know about that.

NICOLE: [gale of charming Australian laughter] Oh, Keith! You are so funny!  I just love your sense of humor. God, Tom had no sense of humor at all! At all! One day I had Russell Crowe call him and pretend to be L. Ron Hubbard calling from the great beyond and when Tom found out it was just Russell,  he almost drove over there and punched Russell in the face! Of course, he would have had to have stood on a box to do it, and Russell would have grilled him up in a cheese sandwich and eaten him for lunch but...well, anyway! I love how playful you are! I love it! Oh, come here, you! You delicious man! I'm so happy!

KEITH: Nic. Seriously. I mean it. I was thinking the best shirt for this was just...waxed chest.

NICOLE: ...waxed chest? Really?

KEITH: Waxed chest is so rock and rock!

NICOLE: Hmm.

KEITH: Right? Isn't that a great idea? It's so ROCK STAR. It's like totally Michael Hutchence, right?

NICOLE:  Would you look at the time? I'm late for a Botox party!

KEITH: You're not coming with me to the awards tonight? The waxed chest and I need your support!

NICOLE: Oh.... No. No, you'll be fine. Don't you think it's best that you walk the red carpet, just you and your chest? You and your waxed chest? Because...it's like....you're....um. A loner! An, um, rocking loner! You don't need ME to be there! No, no. No, I can't be seen there with you and your waxed chest.

KEITH: I guess you're right.

NICOLE: Oh, I know I am! All righty, then! I really must dash! No, no, don't get up! No! No, you don't need to kiss me good-bye! Nope! Well, well! Yes! Good luck! Good luck, and good night!

KEITH: Thanks, honey. You're so supportive.

THE END

Posted by Jessica at 03:24 PM in Grammys | Permalink

Grammy Post-Party Fug: Madonna

The more Madonna tries to yoga off all her body fat and dress like she's in her 20s, the more she ends up looking like a cartoon character.

I know Madonna is and always will be an icon, but come on: That face is beginning to look crazy.

As for the getup: The boots-leggings are more Posh Spice territory than Madge's, and that top is more Duff, Lohan, or Clarkson than Aging Queen of Pop Who, Although She's Still Got It, Really Needs To Stop Kidding Herself And Cease Pretending It's Not Creepy That She Is Trying To Pass As Britney's Contemporary -- Although We Are Grateful She Changed Out Of The Tights She Wore On-Stage, As We Are Very Weary Of Her Crotch Right About Now.

Posted by Heather at 01:06 PM in Grammys | Permalink

Grammy Fug Carpet: Teri Hatcher

Teri Hatcher proves that she woefully, tragically misinterpreted all that "What's in the hatch?" talk that buzzed around ABC last summer.

Posted by Heather at 12:45 PM in Grammys | Permalink

Grammy Awards Fug Carpet: Mary Hart

Love her or hate her, you have to respect Mary Hart -- the original holder of the syrupy "Ms. Perky" title Katie Couric has since usurped -- because she's been around forever and she's still kicking. There are lots of interchangeable blond field reporters of varying ages, like Dayna Devon and Jann Carl and Nancy O'Dell and God knows who else, who could have booted her out of the anchor's seat by now. But no one has.

However, that doesn't mean Mary Hart can pull the wool over our eyes:

You may be going for that timeless, ageless Dick Clarkbot thing, and that's all well and good, but don't forget that we all do know better. This is a dress you'd expect an American Idol winner to wear to her first event, or maybe Amy Lee from Evanescence to pair with some really massive Doc Marten boots and an ill-advised, slightly depressing tutu. But you are... how can I say this? ... well past that life phase, Mary. This is not the dress for you.

Posted by Heather at 12:35 PM in Grammys | Permalink

Grammy Fug Carpet: Kimberly Elise

The scrolldown fug strikes again, and this time it's attacked model/actress/ruffle-lover Kimberly Elise:

Although, really, you barely have to scroll down before her Ruffled Longline Bib of Fug smacks you across the face like a particularly frilly insult.

Posted by Jessica at 11:39 AM in Grammys | Permalink

Grammy Fug Carpet: Random Fug

I don't know who Ashley Altman is.

But I'm pretty sure SHE thinks she's Barbie.

Posted by Jessica at 11:13 AM in Grammys | Permalink

Grammy Fug Carpet: Sally Kirkland

Okay, we know Sally Kirkland is nuts. She always looks nuts. I saw her at Forever 21 at the Beverly Center and actually thought to myself, "who is that crazy woman? Oh. Sally Kirkland."

But this is like a new height of nutsiness:

She looks like the star of an Ice Capades production of The California Raisins Story: The Geriatric Years.

Posted by Jessica at 10:45 AM in Grammys | Permalink

February 14, 2005

Grammy Telecast: Fug Stefani

Lately, Gwen Stefani has been scaring the hell out of me with her Harajuku obsession, and her insistence on styling her hair as if a vulture attacked from above and briefly became ensnared in her coif.

But I still trusted her not to ruin some things. Specifically, pirates. Everyone loves a pirate. And yet somehow, it never occured to me that Ms. Love Angel Music Fugly might want to pay tribute to them by making an unholy marriage of The Crazy and pirate chic... but, here she is on stage at the Grammys performing alongside Eve:

Eve, I believe, symbolizes the pirate's booty, even if she appears to have dieted her booty into oblivion. But she looks fine, if a little bit overeager for somebody to use her birth canal as a periscope (I hear if you look up it, you actually end up seeing things through her eyes).

And Gwen, singing her wretchedly bastardized "If I Were A Rich Man" cover, is apparently the pillaging swashbuckler -- except she looks like she's George Washington, rolling in after a night on the moonshine and drunkenly wondering where he left his pantaloons.

If only this photo showcased the effect when Gwen turned around and shook her ass -- which was, she looked like she was wearing a cloth diaper. And not a clean one. She seems happy about joining Sheryl Crow in the new "I'm A Twiggy, Muscular Shadow Of My Former Already-Thin Self" trend, but... does she have to shimmy around on-stage like a crocodile just coughed her up whole?

Posted by Heather at 03:41 PM in Grammys, Gwen Stefani | Permalink

Grammy Post-Party Fug Carpet: Renee Olstead

Strip away everything but the corset and the skirt, and there might be an outfit lurking here somewhere:


[Photo courtesy of Daily Celeb.]

But as it is, Renee Olstead decided to spruce up her ensemble with one of her favorite linen napkins, and a brocade suit jacket her mother wore on her Honeymoon thirty years ago -- a blazer she of course passed through a pair of scissors before she donned it.

Fraulein Maria might have sculpted something like this from the Von Trapp guest bedroom, had she suffered a head injury first.

Posted by Heather at 02:57 PM in Grammys | Permalink

 

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